


Head and Heart and Bone

by TheWhitesOfYourEyes



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Bad end, Execution, F/F, Post Game, Public Execution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:55:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23775703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWhitesOfYourEyes/pseuds/TheWhitesOfYourEyes
Summary: Edelgard deals with a few loose ends after the war.
Relationships: Edelgard von Hresvelg/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 5
Kudos: 39





	Head and Heart and Bone

Edelgard hates the dungeons. She steps down the stairs and smells the dank and the dirt and her nose scrunches and her fingers tremble. She hears a cry and thinks of her siblings, can still feel the touch of their hands in hers. The dungeon is filled with ghosts.

Hubert is right behind her, along with a gaggle of soldiers. As they descend into the depths, Hubert places a hand, ever so gently, on the small of her back. She knows he can feel her trembling. He keeps his comments to himself. She avoids coming down here unless she absolutely has to.

Hubert steps away when they reach the bottom of the stairs, and the contact is lost. Surrounded by her guards, Edelgard feels more alone than she has in five long years. She tells her soldiers to wait, she will be but a minute, and steps into the dark lit only faintly by torches. She hears the squeak of a rat and nearly trips, but her soldiers are watching, so she manages to stand tall and magnificent even in the depths.

She passes cell after cell. Some are empty, most are filled. Prisoners of war, enemy citizens and enemy soldiers alike, have been cramped into the despicable conditions of the cells. The smell of feces and rot permeates the air. She can feel their hateful eyes follow her every movement. It reminds her of herself, brings back memories she tries to hard to bury. It is hard to breathe in the thick cloud of despair.

She stops outside the cell she has come for. It is no different than any other cell in the dungeon, carved into the rock and caged by rust stained steel. It is empty save for the occupant, chained to the very back of the cell with bars on their ankles and bars on their hands. Prisoner’s are given water every two days, food once a week. It keeps them weak, complacent, easier to handle. Edelgard hates this place with all her being.

The torchlight is weak. Edelgard steps forward. She strains to see within the cell. Dark shapes and shadows flicker in the shifting light. In the corner, a figure huddles, and Edelgards heart is caught in her throat. Her mind begins to wander,

_(five years ago, on top of a tower dedicated to a Goddess she does not believe in, touching hair that feels like downy beneath her calloused hands)_

_(five years ago, a shared bed, trying so so hard not to cry, this is a wonderful thing and she is better than this and she can control herself because she will be Emperor one day soon but the gentle touch and quiet understanding makes her feel things she hasn’t felt in so so long)_

_(five years ago, deep in the heart of Garreg Mach, eyes meeting for a moment flashed with betrayal and hope and anger and defiance and then)_

…and then she speaks. “I will take your head and I will take your heart,” she says, “and I will present them to Rhea.”

The chains rattle as the figure moves, ever so slightly- the lift of a head. Byleth has lost so much weight. Edelgard can almost hear her bones creak as she moves. Just enough to see over the slump of her knees, Byleth meets Edelgards gaze. Neither falters. Edelgard continues. “If she does not speak after this, she will be executed as well.”

Byleth remains quiet. Her eyes burn in the darkness. Smart eyes, tacticians’ eyes, Edelgard can almost feel the way they evaluate her very being, boring through her and processing her boons and her banes and the strength of her gaze makes Edelgards stomach flip. She continues, despite the sudden weight of judgement.

“If you tell me where Flayn is, I will spare your comrades.” Sans Petra, sans Ferdinand, sans Caspar- they lay cold in their graves. “They will be given an official pardon and allowed to live out their lives- on the condition that they remain under close supervision.”

Still, quiet in the dark. Edelgard feels her hands beginning to sweat. “I’d suggest you start talking, if you wish for them to live.”

Quiet. Quiet, so dark and so quiet, and Edelgard thinks _of course it was pointless,_ Byleth has not said a word since her army was defeated. Edelgard waits another moment, and it feels like it stretches out eternally, taut as a string.

(you could cut the tension with a sword or an axe or a lance or a sharpened bone)

She clenches her fists. “This is their last chance. I will not” (cannot) “be this merciful again. You hold their fate in your hands, can’t you see? Talk.” She swallows. “You’ve lost.”

Saying that feels less satisfactory than she thought it would. She hasn’t seen Byleth in weeks, not since the disastrous battle at Gronder fields. Winning never hurt so much.

_It would have been so much easier if you’d just died that day (five long years ago)._

She waits another moment, and then she gives up. Byleth will not talk; she will take her secrets to the grave. There will be more executions in the days to come. Edelgard does not look forward to them.

“El,” Byleth says as Edelgard finally turns to leave, just the barest hint of a whisper, and Her Majesty falls to her knees and weeps.

\-------------

“We can have the executioner-“

Edelgard cuts Hubert off for what feels like the hundredth time that morning. “The people need to see the strength of their leader. I will show them I have the will to deal with traitors and rebels myself.”

It is a line that has been on repeat for the last few weeks. Edelgard needs to hear herself, to justify herself, and Hubert knows, so he asks. It is a well rehearsed dance, and they both play their parts well. Hubert, well trained (as he leads others to believe), bows his head. He falls into place behind her.

The day is beautiful; the sun is shining, birds are singing, and the town square is filled with people clamoring for a better view of the imminent execution. Imperial guards are stationed throughout the crowd, scouring for any signs of disruption in the ranks of the common folk. “You can never be too careful,” Hubert had advised when Edelgard mentioned the overabundance of soldiers, “when the war is still so fresh in people’s mind.” She found she could not argue with that.

“Ah,” Lord Arundel says with a small bow as Edelgard nears the stage where Byleth’s death will be set. He is standing off to the side, hidden in shadow. Lord Arundel does not like the light of day. “Your Majesty.”

Edelgard regards him with a curt nod. He continues, as if she wants him to keep talking. “Today is truly a day of jubilation.”

Edelgard grunts. “Truly.”

“It is important for your people to see this, Your Majesty. With the death of the bearer of the Crest of Flames, the people will know of your power and your fortitude, and the few left who defy you will bow their heads and surrender. Your reign will be secured.”

“I am aware.”

Lord Arundel leans in, speaking quieter. “And all this talk of your… intimate relations with the enemy will cease.”

Edelgards hands feel numb. “There was never any weight to those rumours. People will talk. I will do what I must for my empire, regardless of what my people say behind my back.”

“As a righteous leader should.”

She steps away before he can say anything else- she has heard more than enough from him over the past few years. She cannot wait until he feels the scorch of her flame.

It is almost time, and she can hear the soldiers bringing her defeated enemy forth. Edelgard arrived as late as she could- she has other matters to attend to, and the setup of these sort of things always took too long, and she did not want to stand around and wait and remember Byleth looking at her with the shock of betrayal scowled across her face.

The people are talking, the town square echoing with their words. They quiet as they see Her Majesty make her way to the stand- her involvement had been kept a secret, and it will prove to be quite the show. Her soldiers follow, as do Hubert and Lord Arundel. They all stand behind her at attention, their spears pointed high into the sky towards the burning sun.

When Byleth is dragged out, an uproar begins. People jeer and taunt and scream at the defeated prisoner, some rotten food is thrown, and a tomato explodes on Byleth’s shirt, staining the white garment red. Byleth does not raise her head, says not a word. Edelgard watches out of the corner of her eyes (she cannot bring herself to look at her directly) as Byleth is manhandled into prime position, held belly down on the executioners block, her head positioned above a simple hand weaved basket. Her hair glimmers green in the sun.

Edelgard raises a hand, and the crowd falls silent.

“This is the fate that will befall all those who dare defy the empire,” she booms to her people, to Byleth.

She looks, briefly, at her escort lining the stand behind her. Hubert stares knowingly, gives her an encouraging nod, eyes filled with understanding. Lord Arundel stands behind him. She catches the eyes of her false Uncle, just for a moment, sees the smirk on his lips, and she thinks _you’re next_ as she raises her sacred axe high above her head.

She breathes in,

And she breathes out.

The crowd cheers,

And Aymr falls.

**Author's Note:**

> https://gemrust.tumblr.com/  
> hmu if u wanna talk about ANGST


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